Into Your Empty Hands
by PiecesInTheirGames
Summary: In the aftermath of the rebellion, the people of Panem are forced to re-evaluate their lives whilst still grieving for the loss of those taken. Gale Hawthorne wants to lock away his past, forget the people he has left behind. Thalia Culhane will do anything to hold on to hers. In a world that is still all too fragile, how possible is it that people still get what they want? Gale/OC


**Hello! Welcome to Into Your Empty Hands. This is a post-Mockingjay, Gale/OC focusing on the after-effects of the rebellion. **

**I have actually posted this once before, just in case it may have looked familiar, I am not copying off myself. This version, I'm hoping, is better than the first.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Into your empty hands

Chapter 1

_I close my eyes for a while,  
And force from the world a patient smile.  
But I gave you all._

-Gale-

He looked around his bunker, the small box room that had acted as his home for the past so many months, as he tried to locate those few possessions he might have missed; not that he had much anyway. There was no way he would miss the place. District 13 had never felt like home. At least with his family near there was some sense of normalcy but they were going back to 12 to help with the re-build. He should have been going with them, they'd asked often enough, but the job opportunity in 2 was just too good to turn down. He had never had much ambition when it came to his career, it had pretty much been decided from birth that he would be going down the mines, so how could he possibly pass up the chance to do something he enjoyed and was relatively non-life threatening?

If he was truly honest with himself though, there was another reason that kept him from returning to his former district. There was no doubt in his mind that _she_ hated him now and he didn't blame her. He'd spent the past two weeks in the Capitol whilst she was being held there. He had given evidence at her trial but when the court agreed to release her into Haymitch's care, he knew he had to leave. Haymitch had explained everything to her afterwards of course and he resented the older man for that. He had wanted the chance to explain everything to her. To explain that yes, he had designed the bomb, he wasn't denying that fact, but he did not know that Coin planned to use it in that way. He had asked to see her before she headed back to 12, she turned him down.

Despite all of that –losing Prim, losing Katniss- he could not bring himself to regret anything that had happened. War had hardened him. Or maybe he had always been the same way and the rebellion had just brought it out of him. He didn't know or care either way. Everything that had happened improved the quality of life for the whole in the long run. He had always known sacrifices had to be made if they were to get anything out of it.

He was not going to pretend that he was happy with the way life was for him but what did it matter if he was miserable if it meant his family were going to be able to eat properly for the first time in their lives? The knowledge that he had helped to make it happen made his guilt almost bearable.

So there he was, collecting the meagre amount of belongings he had managed to save from the bombs in 12 and the few things he had picked up since, ready to move on to a new district, a new life.

He had been offered the job of Military strategist; in charge of creating and executing plans, which were designed by himself and his soon-to-be team, to identify and apprehend any threat to national security. It was similar to what he had been doing in 13 and he secretly hoped they would still allow him to contribute in weapons design as well; that was his speciality after all.

He glanced around the bunker for what he hoped was the last time before he turned and headed out of the door. His mother and siblings should still be around somewhere and he needed to say goodbye since there was no telling when he would see them next.

He made his way over to the bunker they shared; hopefully they would be there which would save him to task of having to track them down. He opened the door to find his mother perched on the bottom bunk of one of the two bunk beds in the room. She was brushing Posy's hair, as the girl knelt in front of her- Vick and Rory nowhere to be seen. Posy's little face lit up when she spotted her big brother. She pulled out of her mother's reach, shouted his name and ran straight into his outstretched arms. He swept her up off the floor as Posy buried her face in his neck.

"Hey, baby girl."

He kissed her hair; oh how he would miss her. Despite the fact that she was his sister, he had always been more of a father figure to Posy and now, in her eyes, he was leaving her. For the first time, he felt less confident in his decision.

"Gale, I'm not a baby. I'm 5 now." She replied in that know-it-all tone he had come to love; clearly she had picked up his attitude.

"Well I'm sorry Ma'am. Guess this means I can't pick you up anymore if you're a big girl." His attempt to place her back on her feet failed as she wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened her little arms around his neck.

"Posy, come on sweetheart. Let go of your brother so I can finish your hair please."

His mother's gentle voice broke in as she approached him. She took Posy away, placed her back on the floor before she wrapped her oldest son in her own arms. He knew she was going to miss him; she had told him enough times. She released him moments later without speaking a word but the message was clear.

"Where are Rory and Vick?" He'd rather only say goodbye once, plus his train was going to leave soon.

"Rory went out first thing. Vick went to find him a half hour ago."

He released a sigh. Rory's world was still in pieces from the loss of Prim. He had never realised how close his brother and Katniss' sister were until he saw Rory after Prim's death. He had never seen his brother so broken. His mother had to physically force Rory out of bed and into clothes for those first few days.

As if on cue, Rory and Vick crashed through the door. Well, it looked more like Vick was shoving Rory into the room and despite his smaller frame, Vick was winning. Upon closer inspection of his brother, Rory still had black rims under his eyes from lack of sleep and the emotionless expression he had worn for the past week was still there.

He couldn't help but feel like it was his fault. He was the one who caused Rory the pain. Fortunately, or not depending on your view, Rory was not aware it was Gale who designed the bombs. He had heard rumours of course but his mother had quickly denied it, although she knew the truth, and so Rory in the state he was had simply accepted it. Gale was grateful for that. Katniss hated him, which he could just about handle but his own brother? No, he would not be able to cope with that. He loved his family more than anything and he would do everything in his power to keep his siblings from finding out about his role in the slaughter of thousands of innocents.

"You're leaving us today aren't you?" Vick asked.

How was he supposed to answer that? He needed to make them understand that even though he was moving to another district, he wasn't leaving them.

"I'm leaving for 2 today, yeah. But I'm not leaving you guys. I'm only a train ride away and you can come visit me whenever you like. You can even call me at any time once we get the phone lines working properly. I'd never just walk away from you."

He hoped this got the message across. How else could he explain to a 10 and 5 year old? He couldn't go into detail, they just wouldn't have understood. At that moment, two small arms wrapped around his waist. Posy had made her way back to him. He places his hand on her hair, smoothing it down as another pair of arms attached to his other side- Vick. This was quickly followed by his mother, who pulled Rory in with her.

Surrounded by his family was where he wanted to be more than anything. But of course, it was never going to last forever. A quick glance at his watch showed he had a little under twenty minutes before he was due to board 13's hovercraft. However, he couldn't stand in the embrace the whole time or else he would break down and that wouldn't have done any of them favours so he separated himself from their hold.

This was where he wanted to be more than anything; surrounded by his family. But of course, it couldn't last forever. A quick glance at his watch showed him he a little under twenty minutes before he was due to board 13's hovercraft. However, he couldn't stand here like that the whole time otherwise he'd break down and that wouldn't do any of them any favours so he separated himself from their hold.

"Can we walk you to the field?"

A look at all of their expectant faces, even Rory's, and he knew there was no way he could turn them down so he agreed.

Once on the air field, they stood watching as the personnel loaded everything onto the hovercraft. A railroad would eventually connect 13 to the rest of the districts but for now Gale was travelling back to the to the Capitol via hovercraft and then he was to take the train from there into 2 which he didn't quite see the point of as they passed over 2 to get to the Capitol but that was the flight plan programmed. To say he looked forward to the ride was a severe over-statement.

His family gathered around him as he handed over his bags to one of the workers. Five minutes until boarding. _Well, this is it. _But before he had a chance to say anything, Posy launched herself at him.

"Please don't go Gale. Don't leave us."

She repeated this over and over into his shirt, her broken voice muffled as she buried her face into the fabric. He could feel her tears leaking through and for the second time that day, he questioned whether he could really do this. But his decision was made, the military were expecting him and he placated himself with the knowledge that he was doing this to keep the country safer for her; for his whole family.

He grasped her tiny shoulders, pulling her away in order to kneel in front of her. He smiled softly despite his own heart breaking.

"Posy, I'm not going too far and I said you can come see me whenever you like ok? I'm not leaving forever. You've got to be a big girl now and help Mom keep Rory and Vick out of trouble. Think you can do that?"

His words were received with a slight nod of her head and Gale couldn't help but stare at the way her dark hair bounced with the movement. He would definitely miss that. He stood to face the rest of his family, turning to the boys first.

"Guys, try and stay out of trouble yeah? While I'm not there, it's up to you two to help Mom."

He walked over to Rory and was instantly struck by how much his brother has grown; they were practically the same height. How could he have missed that? He placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Rory's shoulder. When he didn't move away, Gale interpreted it as a good sign and pulled him into a hug.

"I'm sorry about Prim," is all he said before he released Rory and moved to Vick, again pulling the younger boy into a hug.

"Be good, kid." To which Vick responded with a vigorous nod of his head.

He turned to face his mother who simply looked at him for a moment as if she was memorising his features, before she moved towards him and took him in her arms once more.

"Be careful, Honey. I love you."

He felt the tears beginning to sting his eyes and so he clamped them shut, clinging to his mother for a little while longer. He felt 14-years-old again, just after the accident that had taken his father's life. That was the last time he remembered holding his Mom the way he was but he needed the support and unconditional love that only a mother could give.

"I love you too." Gale eventually replied before reluctantly letting go and taking a step back.

He studied them each in turn; Posy, who was being carried by Rory, with her innocent fact tear-stained but somehow she still managed to look as beautiful as she always did; Rory with his haunted expression, yet he reminded Gale of himself at that age; Vick with his own determined expression, he was going to take the job of 'man of the house' very seriously it seemed. Finally, his mother who had always been there for him and now looked as if she were proud to see her oldest son standing on his own two feet, ready to take the next step in his life.

He raised his arm in a gesture of farewell, promising to write a letter as soon as he got to his destination. He planned to have it hand delivered.

After boarding the hovercraft that would begin the journey to his new home, he looked out of the small window beside him to see his family still stood there- all of them so similar yet so different and as the aircraft began its take-off, he couldn't help but wish that _she_ was there with him. No doubt she would have make some small remark that to her wouldn't mean a thing but to him would mean the world. Maybe she would have taken his hand; she always was better at physically showing her emotions.

It was at this point, looking down at the land that was so far away, that Gale Hawthorne realised that he would never want anyone else. Katniss Everdeen was the only person for him, the only person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and that was not going to change.

* * *

-Thalia-

She swung her legs backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. It was an easy thing to do. There were no complications, no feeling involved, just her and the steady breeze hitting her cheeks. She wished that everything could be this simple- either that or she could just stay where she was for the rest of her life. That moment had been the first time in weeks, months maybe, that her surroundings could be classed as peaceful. The previous, unknown amount of time had brought with it nothing but violence, fear and death. But not at that moment; for the first time in a long time, her head was clear. But with clarity also came space- the space to think. After all, a blank mind tends to drift off which then leads to the exact thoughts that you didn't want to think about.

Images of soldiers and bombs and guns and fire shot forward in her mind. Images of broken bodies. Images she tried her best to keep hidden.

It was difficult, practically impossible even, for her to see how the uprising of the districts had made any improvement to her life. Maybe she had only been thinking in the short term but at that moment she really didn't give a damn about the long-term effects.

People always claim that life is unfair but it wasn't until the rebels broke her district, and consequently her family, that she had truly started to believe it. Two weeks later and the belief had only become more pronounced. Of course she had understood that thousands of other people across the country felt the same but who honestly thinks about anyone else when they're grieving themselves? She never even came out of her own mind long enough to comfort her younger sister, not that Lucia wanted the comfort either; they were alike in that way.

She continued to swing her legs. She leaned as far back as she could on the forward swing so that her long, dark hair connected with the grass beneath her. She looked up into the tree above, trying to see crisp, green leaves hanging from the sparse branches and the bird's nest she knew was hiding up there somewhere. Instead she saw flashes of bright yellow flames, eating away at the wooden surface, threatening a collapse at any moment.

She immediately slammed her feet on the ground, halting the movements. It wasn't real. She knew that. But still, she could feel the burning ash landing on her skin leaving stinging trails down her arms. She found herself, almost unconsciously, rubbing at her arms beneath the long sleeved, over-sized sweater she was wearing. Her heartbeat had increased and her breath came out in short bursts until she focused enough to regain control over her own body; it wasn't the first time it had happened after all.

She reached into her jeans pocket before she could stop herself. In her still shaking hand she held the tattered photograph. The image of smiling people looked back at her and she felt she could breathe again.

Flashbacks were a regular part of her life, well if you could call them flashbacks- it was more things she had heard or saw that would morph themselves into something truly terrifying to her. She would often wonder whether it was her own body's way of punishing her. _If you had only been quicker, this wouldn't have happened. If only you'd been stronger, you wouldn't have seen this._

Post-traumatic stress disorder was what the Capitol doctor had said; a severe anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to any event that result in psychological trauma. Something along those lines had come out of the doctor's mouth when he'd completed his examination. It had been all too common to be given this diagnosis if you were a victim of the rebellion. They said you were suffering PTSD, gave you a box of anti-depressants and told you to check back in a month. Of course, hardly anyone did.

Regardless, she had assigned it a different label. Guilt. That's what it was; not survivor's guilt or anything like that, just pure feelings of guilt. Enough for her body to feel like it had to punish her; enough for her to feel like she had to take the punishment. The photograph was the only indulgence that she had allowed herself, it had kept her sane and in the new world that was still all too fragile, she needed to hold on to her sanity.

So that was what she did. She sat on her old rope swing in the backyard, kicking her legs backwards and forwards, tilting her upper body back on the forward swings, sitting up straight again on the back swing. And it had helped her, which was a surprise. The set list of actions that she had to perform to keep herself from coming to a stop had helped to keep her mind from drifting and that was what she had told herself she needed. A routine, something to do.

She had heard the commotion in the kitchen long before the near-empty carton of milk had hit the glass door, following by the sound of metal crashing onto a tiled floor. She should have gone inside. She should have made sure they didn't end up hurting each other but she just could not bring herself to move. Maybe she was being selfish, she knew she was, but that did nothing to spur on any movement. It was a lot easier to pretend she couldn't hear; pretend that the bird song playing above her head was the only sound that surrounded her. She had no desire to move and even less desire to put herself in the middle of an argument, especially one that was moments away from turning violent.

They all grieved in their own ways. She would sit on her swing, lost in the depths of her own mind and hallucinations- her family would scream and throw things until their throats ached and there was no energy left in their bodies. It was a little surreal that one person being taken from their lives could turn everything upside down so suddenly but there was no denying that that was exactly what had happened. They were all broken now; shadows of who they previously had been. In a way what they were going through, what people across the whole country were going through, it was just collateral damage. To the powerful people in charge, all of the sacrifices were necessary for change; but not for the ordinary people trying to deal with fallen loved ones whilst re-building their homes. They lost people but they gained freedom- a hell of a lot of good it had done them so far.

She was beyond anger now though. She hated the Capitol and the rebels but there was no anger left. She had been irritated when they interfered with the quarter quell, angry when they started a full scale rebellion and furious when they took over district 2. Now she was just… empty.

"_Don't pretend you give a shit about me! All you've cared about for weeks is the nice bottle of alcohol in your hand!"_

The birds continued to tweet above her head, apparently ignorant to the raised voices. She watched as a younger bird darted its head around before taking flight. Birds had simple lives.

"_You are not leaving this house until you tell me where you are going, understand me?"_

This was followed moments later by the slamming of the front door and the quiet once again settled around her. Was it possible that at one point she had actually enjoyed noise and chaos? It felt like a different lifetime. Maybe it was. She was different now and not just in a psychological sense either. She wasn't even aware of how pale and withdrawn she looked- avoiding her own reflection was a necessity. She reminded herself too much of him. She also had to admit that this was another reason she refused to comfort Lucia; she too shared his dark looks. The worst part was that she didn't even feel guilty about this. Too wrapped up in herself.

Thalia looked over towards the home that she had always loved. She could just about see her mother's feet sticking out from behind the kitchen counter. None of them wanted this life anymore. The only thing they could try to do was hold onto the life that they had never cherished enough before this happened- memories were all that were left now. She wished he was here. He'd tell her to sit up straight and regain her pride; to get over it and move on. His words always sounded that little harsher than he intended. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't move on when she was so intent on holding onto the past, on to him.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**Leave a review if you feel there's anything you liked or anything that need improving.**


End file.
